


sugarcoated

by nishtabel



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Hand Feeding, M/M, Stuffing, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishtabel/pseuds/nishtabel
Summary: Sylvain groans, hands curling into fists on his thighs. Sylvain had mentioned this several weeks ago, half-drunk on wine and drunker still on Dimitri’s cock, but they haven’ttalkedabout it, not really. Sylvain makes his jokes and Dimitri plays along, offering Sylvain his leftovers and extra bites of food he steals from the cafeteria, but they haven’t done—this.“You can say no,” Dimitri reminds him, worried that he’s overstepped a boundary. “I made them for you to enjoy regardless, so—”“Yeah,” Sylvain says, slightly breathless. When he turns to look at Dimitri, his pupils are blown black, swallowing the deep brown of his iris. “Fuck.Yeah, Dimitri, I—yeah, I want you to feed me.”Or: Dimitri feeds Sylvain. A lot.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	sugarcoated

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to my anonymous commissioner for trusting me to write this piece—i had an absolute blast with it, and i'm so happy i finally got to write this scenario for these two 🥰
> 
> if you're curious, dimitri makes sylvain a variation of [these](https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/10305/fudge-meltaways/), which are fucking amazing and well worth the prep time.

Dimitri means to have Sylvain’s surprise ready by the time he’s out of class, but the icing takes longer than he’d expected to cool, and by the time he’s cut the pan into little squares and is dipping them in chocolate, he hears Sylvain’s key in the door.

“Just a minute!” he calls, trying to wipe chocolate from his fingers as he shoves the dessert into the back of the refrigerator to cool. The kitchen is a mess, but—

“What are you doing in here?” Sylvain leans on the doorframe, shoulders broad and stretching the thin cotton of his t-shirt. It’s tighter than it used to be, Dimitri thinks—it’s pulled taut over Sylvain’s pecs, rounded with muscle, and it barely reaches the waistline of his jeans without Sylvain tugging it down to hide the thick trail of red hair below his navel. It rides up when he cocks his hip, the brunt of his weight on the doorframe, and Dimitri can feel himself staring but he can’t _stop_. “Didn’t take you for a baker, Dimitri.”

Dimitri swallows and turns away, hastily readjusting his dick. His jeans are loose enough that if he tucks it down his leg, maybe—“Uh,” Dimitri says, turning on the tap. He’d planned to have everything cleaned up before Sylvain came over, the kitchen sparkling, the dessert on the coffee table with a couple of candles. He scowls at the saucepan in his hands, grabbing the sponge to start scrubbing. Sylvain just _had_ to be punctual, today of all days. “I was…”

“Aw, is this for me?” Sylvain’s voice is closer, now, and Dimitri hadn’t heard his footsteps over the sound of running water, so he jumps when Sylvain’s big hand squeezes his hip. Sylvain hooks his chin over Dimitri’s shoulder and says, “What’s for dinner?”

“Not dinner,” Dimitri says, rinsing the pan and setting it on their overflowing dish rack. “I, uh. Made dessert.”

Sylvain hums, and Dimitri can feel it all down his back. Sylvain presses an open-mouthed kiss his throat and says, “Babe, you shouldn’t have.” He smiles and nips lightly at Dimitri’s jugular. “I’m surprised you found something that I can eat.”

Dimitri shrugs, careful not to dislodge Sylvain. He likes the weight of him on his back, the heat of his breath against his neck. The hair on his arms stands on end. “Just got gluten-free graham crackers,” he says, gesturing to the counter. “There’s half a box left over, if you want any.”

“Nah,” Sylvain says. “Rather wait for you to feed me, yourself.” Dimitri feels his knees buckle, catching himself on the lip of the sink. The water is still running and he can’t remember which dish he has to clean next. Sylvain laughs in his ear. “Oh, you like that idea?”

Dimitri swallows, turning off the sink with shaking hands. “Perhaps,” he says, unwilling to say what he’s thinking, which is _yes, please, that’s the point, that’s why I made these—_

Sylvain pulls away, offering a single swat at Dimitri’s ass. “I’ll let you finish up, then,” he says. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re done.”

* * *

It takes almost two hours for the chocolate to harden in their little fridge, and the wait is agonizing. Dimitri finishes cleaning the kitchen before joining Sylvain on the couch, and Sylvain is _handsy_ , clever fingers toying with the hem of Dimitri’s shirt as he crawls sideways into his lap and nuzzles his throat, bites at his jaw. Dimitri is half-hard by the time the timer goes off, and Sylvain looks absolutely devilish where he grinds against Dimitri’s lap, ass thick and hot beneath Dimitri’s palms.

“Let me get up,” Dimitri says, voice hoarse. When Sylvain merely smirks, he tries again. “Please.”

Sylvain gives a long-suffering sigh, flopping from Dimitri’s lap and onto the couch. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Dimitri retrieves the plate of sweets from the fridge, grabbing Sylvain a glass of milk and a towel before stepping back into the living room. Sylvain eyes the plate immediately, mouth slightly open as his tongue swipes along his bottom lip.

“Damn,” he says, sitting up straight. He watches Dimitri put the plate on the coffee table with rapt attention, and Dimitri can tell that Sylvain isn’t sure if he can touch or not, or—

“You said you wanted me to feed you,” Dimitri says, sitting next to Sylvain. Heat rises on Sylvain’s cheeks, pink beneath his sun-kissed freckles, and he decides: “If I feed you, you’ll need to clear the plate.”

Sylvain groans, hands curling into fists on his thighs. Sylvain had mentioned this several weeks ago, half-drunk on wine and drunker still on Dimitri’s cock, but they haven’t _talked_ about it, not really. Sylvain makes his jokes and Dimitri plays along, offering Sylvain his leftovers and extra bites of food he steals from the cafeteria, but they haven’t done— _this_.

“You can say no,” Dimitri reminds him, worried that he’s overstepped a boundary. “I made them for you to enjoy regardless, so—”

“Yeah,” Sylvain says, slightly breathless. When he turns to look at Dimitri, his pupils are blown black, swallowing the deep brown of his iris. “Fuck. _Yeah_ , Dimitri, I—yeah, I want you to feed me.”

Dimitri smiles, heart fluttering in his chest even as arousal sinks heavy and hot in his gut. He watches the bob of Sylvain’s Adam’s apple before saying, “Alright. Lean back for me, then.”

Sylvain does as he’s told, eyes glassy and excited. Dimitri situates him against the back cushion before straddling his lap, bringing the plate of dessert to rest on the arm of the couch. He spreads the towel over one thigh, grabs the first bite, and says, “Ready?”

Sylvain nods and parts his lips. He takes the first piece shyly, lips curling plush around Dimitri’s fingers when Dimitri places it on his tongue, and his eyes flutter closed as he chews. When he swallows, he blinks up at Dimitri and says, “Holy shit.”

“Good?”

“Fucking amazing.” Sylvain’s smile is bright, chocolate melted on the corner of his mouth.

Dimitri wipes it away with the pad of his thumb, offering it to Sylvain to suck clean. Sylvain takes Dimitri’s thumb into his mouth and presses the flat of his tongue against the nail, sucking until there’s no chocolate left. The edges of his mouth are curled in a smile.

“Another?” Dimitri asks.

Sylvain nods.

They make it through more than half of the plate in much the same way, with Dimitri presenting little bites to Sylvain before wiping any excess off with his fingers. Sylvain eats and eats, obediently accepting each square of dessert until he’s reclining heavily against the couch, eyes glazed and stomach halfway bloated. When Dimitri reaches down to lift the hem of Sylvain’s shirt, folding it over the subtle swell of his belly, he doesn’t miss the hard jut of Sylvain’s cock in his jeans.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, because when he brushes his palm over Sylvain’s stomach, he groans.

“Mm,” Sylvain says, letting his head fall back. He arches up into Dimitri’s touch and sighs. “Good. ’M good.”

“Good,” Dimitri says. “Because we still have a few left.”

Sylvain eats more slowly this time, taking longer to chew and swallow and open his mouth for more. But he does, every time—even when his eyes grow heavy-lidded, even when his hands reach to unbutton the unforgiving zipper of his jeans. He opens his mouth for each little square, moaning around Dimitri’s fingers when Dimitri presses on his stomach.

“Last one,” Dimitri says, and Sylvain _whines_ , squirming beneath Dimitri before parting his lips just enough to let Dimitri press inside of his mouth. “That’s it, Sylvain, you’re almost there—oh, _good_ boy,” he says, when at last Sylvain swallows. “That’s everything, the plate is clear, alright?”

Sylvain nods dazedly, eyes still closed. “Yeah,” he says, wincing slightly when he breathes.

“I need you to do one more thing for me.” Dimitri reaches behind himself to grab the glass of milk from the coffee table. He nudges the lip of the glass against Sylvain’s lip and says, “I need you to drink this for me, okay?” When Sylvain doesn’t respond, still wiggling beneath him, Dimitri says, “Come on, Sylvain. Make me happy, hm?”

Sylvain groans, letting Dimitri slowly pour the milk down his throat. He swallows erratically, hiccuping against the glass, but he seems too far gone to notice the milk that spills from the corners of his mouth to drip from his chin. He finishes the glass with a low whine, breath coming shallowly as he settles back against the couch. “Full,” he says, hiccuping again.

“Yeah, I know,” Dimitri says, as sweetly as he can. Sylvain’s stomach gives a warning growl, rumbling beneath the palm of his hand. Dimitri rubs him, trying to soothe the fevered swell of his belly, and shifts to press his knee between Sylvain’s splayed thighs. “You want me to take care of you?”

“Not—not right now,” Sylvain manages, curling into Dimitri’s touch. “Just.” He swallows, smacking his lips as he takes a deep breath through his mouth. “Just rub me for now. Please.”

Dimitri nods and settles next to Sylvain, shoulder to shoulder as he presses a kiss to Sylvain’s temple. Sylvain leans gracelessly against him, seeking his mouth with closed eyes and moaning when Dimitri allows him a single, chaste kiss. “Let me know if you need anything else, alright?”

“Yeah,” Sylvain says. Then, so quietly that Dimitri may not have heard it: “Thank you, Dima.”

**Author's Note:**

> i have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/nishtabel)


End file.
